


No Illusions

by andlightplay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Avengers (2012), Gen, Loss of Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andlightplay/pseuds/andlightplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Thor had told the mortals to bind him with iron, and Loki had sneered at him from his prison, furious that Thor had revealed to them what every child of the other eight realms knew, but content that that was as far as Thor’s knowledge of magic stretched.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>These bonds are different. They have been forged on Niflheim, carved by Frigga and blessed by Odin, and they <b>burn</b>.</i>
</p><p>Loki faces Asgardian justice.</p><p>(written before <i>Thor: The Dark World</i> came out so Jossed to hell and not canon-compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Illusions

Loki had briefly entertained the notion of slipping from Thor’s grasp during their transit, perhaps even taking the Tesseract with him, but the mortals are not entirely stupid and have bound him with cold iron (though it was Thor who told them to do so), and the effort it would take to wrench himself free would cost him too much when it would result only in his being trapped in the void again, and especially if he were then to be found by a species more cunning and aware of his value than the Chitauri.

Heimdall is waiting for them when they arrive in Asgard, which nixes another avenue of escape, and he and Thor accompany Loki across the skeletal but functional bridge and to the palace. Loki allows himself a smirk at the throng of people gathered to witness his punishment - why call it a trial when the verdict is already both decided and known? - which rivals the crowd at Thor’s coronation; he has never been so popular.

Odin is waiting on the dais, with Frigga beside him, and Thor’s friends are lurking at the foot like children sneaking a peek at something forbidden. They glare at Loki as he passes, and Loki winks at them each in turn, just to watch them froth with silent and impotent rage; the Lady Sif even half-draws her weapon before Hogun and Volstagg restrain her. Heimdall sets himself at the base of the stairs, and Thor reluctantly releases Loki to do the same, and just for a second Loki contemplates casting off his chains and hurling himself away and into the void, throwing himself upon its mercy and seeing where he ends up, but he knows he would never manage it; Frigga will have enchanted the palace with a net of sorts to catch him should he attempt it, and in all likelihood Heimdall will have assisted her, and before their collaboration he is all but helpless.

Neither Odin nor Frigga have changed since last he saw them, and both are stern and impassive before him as he mounts the steps, though Frigga’s hands are clasped before her not behind, so Loki can see the tightness in her fingers.

“Loki Odinson,” (interesting; they are taking responsibility for his faults as their own in raising him, not simply unavoidable due to his nature) “you have committed crimes against two of the nine realms. You have conspired to regicide and patricide both, consorted with our enemies and incited them to war, and caused wanton and malicious destruction. You have drawn Midgard to the attention of hostile forces, knowing full-well it was as yet unprepared for such higher forms of war, and used the resulting invasion to further your own wrongful agenda against your brother.”

Loki rolls his eyes extravagantly. Odin’s brows draw lower; Frigga’s fingers twitch.

“To ensure you cause no further harm to the nine realms you will be held here in Asgard indefinitely, your status as royal prince revoked-”

Loki feigns shock; alas, that no one should ever again call him ‘prince’! In truth he has almost forgotten anyone once had; the Chitauri certainly hadn’t, and before that is the ringing emptiness of the void, which may sometimes have whispered his name, but which never titled him anything more. He extends his arms mockingly, invitingly, the chain clinking between them.

Odin turns from him though, and picks up not the dull black metal of the Midgardian restraints but a shining silver cuff, carved with runes: sowilo, thurisaz, algiz; justice, purging, guarding and repelling. 

"-and your magic stripped from you." A simple tug breaks one shackle, and the Odin fastens the new one in its place.

Thor had told the mortals to bind him with iron, and Loki had sneered at him from his prison, furious that Thor had revealed to them what every child of the other eight realms knew, but content that that was as far as Thor’s knowledge of magic stretched. The chains had stung faintly when the mortals had put them on, but that was all; cold iron alone was not enough to neutralize him, and the Midgardians had neither the knowledge nor the ability to make them more potent.

These bonds are different. They have been forged on Niflheim, carved by Frigga and blessed by Odin, and they _burn_.

Loki barely feels Odin replacing his other shackles, too consumed by the feeling of his magic cringing away from them, unraveling from him where he hoarded it so carefully, sloughing from him like snakeskin. It leaves him like a fever and he is suddenly warm, too hot, skin slick with moisture and feeling bared and alone, dressed only in the undershirt and trousers he was able to salvage when he woke to find himself on the Chitauri homeworld, cuffs throbbing at his wrists and ankles. Unfettered now, he reaches up and tears away the Midgardian gag, and it hits the floor in sudden silence with an unmusical clang, metal against stone.

Then the murmurs begin, hushed gasps and the odd cry, quickly stifled, and he opens his eyes and realises _all_ magic has been withdrawn from him, even the glamour woven for him by Frigga the day Odin brought him back to Asgard that has sat against his skin like a well-loved garment his whole life, only noticeable now by its absence.

He draws himself up to his full height, a little taller than Odin now, and turns to face the crowd, baring his teeth. He’d like it to be a smile, but he knows it’s more the snarl of an animal at bay.

Heimdall is expressionless, as usual; perhaps he has always been able to see through the glamour, so seeing Loki without it now is no shock to him. Thor has never fully seen him thus though, and is struggling to keep his face neutral when his instinct is revulsion and fury. The Warriors Three do not bother to hide their disgust; no one has impeded the Lady Sif this time, and she looks like she would gladly take the slightest excuse to use her blade. Beyond them, the people of Asgard are whispering like grass in the wind, all their worst rumours confirmed.

“Take him away,” Odin says from behind him, and Heimdall turns expectantly. Loki descends the steps towards him carefully, his feet now larger than before and his body clumsier, and when he reaches the bottom Thor falls in beside him, fingers white-knuckled on Mjolnir. His friends follow behind, weapons drawn, in case Loki were to suddenly fall prey to his base nature and attack the good people of Asgard.

Hushed conversations peak and ebb as they pass, like waves on the shore; their tone is no longer stunned but dismissive, derisive; many of them have fought frost giants, and they know that Loki is a small and stunted specimen of his kind, as weak and pathetic as a monster as he was an aesir, using magic instead of brute strength to fight. 

Loki hopes viciously that Frigga did not explain the whole nature of magic to Odin, and that when - for it is when, not if, even if it will be due to necessity rather than forgiveness - he is released, a last hope to turn the tide, he will simply shrug and say he cannot help, for without magic he is indeed nothing. For magic is not gentled and trained as a horse; it is a wild bird, captured and caged with patience and perseverance but never truely tamed, and when the cage is opened and the bird set free, it cannot be returned but with coaxing and further hard work, retreading the same small steps until it can be lured back to captivity and put to use again. 

And Asgard will be in mortal peril long before Thor develops the wit and eloquence to sway his father, even with Frigga perhaps aiding him; though the Chitauri will be too busy licking their wounds to come searching for him to demand recompense, he cannot say the same for whatever intelligence was guiding them. Just as one can gauge the location of a back hole by watching the effect it has on other things around it, so Loki could sense some vast, terrible being behind the Chitauri, and though perhaps it knew their invasion would fail, he still suspects it will seek him out again.

He only hopes that before it finds him it eats Asgard whole.


End file.
